


Come What May

by Sildominarin



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-04
Updated: 2016-12-04
Packaged: 2018-09-06 09:14:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8744140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sildominarin/pseuds/Sildominarin
Summary: A glance into the lives of Dorian Pavus and the Iron Bull.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AuditoryCheesecake](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AuditoryCheesecake/gifts).



> This is a combination of two prompts: both hurt/comfort and a modern AU. The reciepiant asked for 'moments of a relationship not connected to drama or story' and 'cudding hurt/comfort'. I hope this delivered!

When the call came in, Dorian's world ground to a halt.

Wednesdays were not his favorite to begin with. As an associate professor in a topic few chose to pursue he was unable to be picky about class times, and Ferelden superstitious fear of both necromancy and Tevinters had seen his one lab class a week relegated to a grueling seven am. It meant he had to be up and vageuly functional by five, out the door half an hour later, and on campus to work with students less lively than their subject matter by quarter till.

It was a drastic change from his Monday and Friday night classes, but more annoyingly it threw off his morning routine of coffee and...affection with the Iron Bull.

Their relationship- and the word still gave him pleasuable chills if it caught him unawares- had been unconventional from the very beginning. The CChargers- one of the few small private security companies in Ferelden that offered to both guard and transport goods- had been hired by the university when a loan of Nevarran mortalitasi artifacts had come for a brief study exchange. Dorian spent the majority of those three short weeks learning everything he could from both ancient texts and- in a slightly less official capacity- from the ancient skulls themselves. Bull had watched him like a hawk the first week, flirted almost constanty the second, and by the third had Dorian induging in a night of truly fanastic one night stand sex before the Chargers finished their contract and headed out.

And then, of course, had run into each other at the market a week later.

It should have been awkward- and it was, those first few moments, when Dorian as hoping the floor would kill him-, but if there was one thing the Iron Bull excelled in it was casual sex in a functional and even healthy friendship. Within two minutes of the meeting they were bemoaning the south's distrust of spices beyond salt, and before mage and qunari parted ways Bull had wrangled Doria's cell number and talked him into going for coffee at some point.

And it just...grew from there. Though the status of pariah was one he had accepted willingly- even embraced during black moods- it was still so easy to be lonely. A friend who expected nothing was welcome, and a friend who had mastered no strings attached relationships even more so. Of course Dorian had always struggled with that himself, but had trusted Bull with the distance keeping.

And had somehow, two years later, ended up in an exclusive relatioship with his amatus, with a circle of friends and a job he adored.

And a cell phone buzzing relentlessly in his back pocket as he instructed all four of his students in the theoretical applications of the Horror spell. Though when he stepped into the hall to see just why Krem would be calling at the wrong side of dawn, he felt certain that they'd mastered it-- and targeted him.

\-----------------  
It could have been worse. It could have been so much worse, and Dorian struggled to find comfort in that even he sat on their bed and watched Bull breathe.

The Chargers had been guarding a private exhibition on a day that its prized painting was to be assessed for auction. The piece was controversial, believed to have belonged to a mage who had died during a 'routine' interview with templars. There had been protestors, and when the painting was being transported from building to truck one of them had made his move. The blade that had meant to rend the painting in two, though, had instead lodged itself into the Iron Bull's shoulder when he had been herding other marchers aside.

It came with the job, and Dorian had known that from the beginning. The wound wasn't life threatening, though deep enough to require a decent number of stitches and a few layers of bandages. It would be a good drinking story someday, a tale told in some hole in the wall dive about the crazy painting job and the time that the boss had gotten stabbed but Dorian had been in the hospital he had been there and--

"Kadan."

The word, spoken softly, jerked Dorian from the somewhat panicked spiral he had fallen into. Bull, propped up against the headboard, was awake and staring at him. His good eye held a concerned fondness, and with hi good arm he reached out to cradle the mage's chin.

"Can hear you thinking, Dorian. It's alright."

The 'vint huffed, crossing his arms. "It is not 'alright', as you--"

The had shifted, and Bull laid a single finger against Dorian's lips. "Nope. It's alright. Come 'ere."

And Dorian tried to pull back, to demand that they talk about what had happened, but within moments he was flush against the qunari with Bull's fingers carding through his hair.  
"Scared you today." It was not a question, but Dorian nodded regardless.

"I thought...well, any number of things. Krem didn't have all the information, and I was unwilling to wait until he did."  
"You catch any shit for leaving your class?"

"I doubt anyone is aware-- I informed them to continue working on their casting, and if anyone left early I would demonstrate exactly how it worked on them when next we convene."  
Bull's laughter brought a slight smile to his face, and the knots of tension in his chest began to loosen. Leaning against him for a moment Dorian waited until the worst of the tension had faded, and then reached for his laptop.

"On a somewhat brighter note, Madam de Fer sent a courier over while you were resting. Apparently she insists that you 'use your convalescence productively', and review a documentary the Orlesian university has been developing." 

Dorian waited while his amatus struggled to find a reasonable excuse, and then smirked. "On dragons." 

"Ataashi! What are you waiting for, kadan? Fire it up!"

"....I am sending you back in the hospital."


End file.
